But since I wrote my hilarious response to office bastardry, and I thought I had sorted out some solidarity with hungry co-worker and fellow thief; fridge monster seems to have taken sole and exclusive comfort in my lunch bag. With extreme consumption prejudice – they ate my leftovers. I’ve retaliated.

There are certain things that are sacred and unjoking in my [you] life and those are the traditions I have with my closest mates. For the last ten years we have celebrated two things: our own (un PC named) version of Thanksgiving ( see: youfood for the full update), and the other thing is our annual photo with Santa.

Look at those fly people

During the holidays tradition is important.

And one part of this holiday tradition is how much bad touching Santa seems to get away with when I sit on his lap.

In the past it was always just a joke pertaining to the fact that due to my size I would have to be the one perched on Santa’s lap. It was a perfect set up for a joke.

However this year Santa amped up his perv game. When I went to sit on his lap it seemed like awkward quarters, what with so many people flanking us. I ended up plopping onto Mrs. Klaus’s lap. So I popped up off her diminutive frame, but Santa full on grabbed my hips to “re-adjust me” on top his lap. And on the way down onto the holiday lap, Santa got a handful of my ass.